


lose something in the leaving

by caeliste (fictitiousregrets)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, a singular blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousregrets/pseuds/caeliste
Summary: Alyosha makes a decision.





	lose something in the leaving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuckyDiceKirby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/gifts).



> happy birthday sarah!! here's some aly/arr fic, ft arrell on his knees!!!

When Arrell gets home—what their home is for now, at least—from a long day of research and interviews, he finds Alyosha at the desk, staring into the depths of a candle. His former pupil could get lost in thought like that. He was a thinker at heart, no matter how good he was at talking to other people. Perhaps it was that intense thought that made him so good at interacting with others. It had manifested differently in Arrell, and though he was mildly jealous about it, he was mostly proud that his pupil was such a presence.

    After a moment, Alyosha looks up. His smile is not the same as it usually is. He is usually sunlight, but today he is partially obscured by clouds. It’s colder.

    “Tutor.” Alyosha rises from his chair, but Arrell puts a hand up, and his pupil sits back down hesitantly.

    “Alyosha,” Arrell says, stepping forward and leaning on the desk. “What’s wrong?”

    It takes him a few seconds longer than it should, but Alyosha shakes his head. “We have a few more days here, don’t we?”

    Arrell nods. “I think we can head East.” He takes Alyosha’s hands in both of his, as enthusiastic as he could ever be. “I found a lead for my research. It could be the key to everything, Alyosha.”

    His lover cannot meet his eyes, and fear strikes his heart. His hands lay limp in Arrell’s, his teeth pull at his bottom lip, and never has Arrell wanted more to kiss him. But something is _wrong_ , and he has never left something well enough alone. He tries to pull at the thread.

    “Pupil,” Arrell says, as softly as he can.

    “It’s just…” Alyosha closes his eyes. “What if I wanted to stay, Tutor?” He opens his eyes again and looks at Arrell with sad eyes that try to tear Arrell’s heart from his chest. “My work with the church… I could build a congregation here. A real congregation, with people who come every week. I could spread the creed of Our Lord _here_.” A spark of warmth shows on his face, and with every word, Arrell feels his heart sink deeper and deeper. “I don’t want to simply toss seeds and hope they grow anymore, Tutor, I want to plant _trees_.”

    “People are not plants, Alyosha,” says Arrell, more harshly than he means in his hurt. He holds Alyosha’s hands a little tighter as Alyosha’s brow furrows. “Do you understand what this means? I _cannot_ stay here. There is nothing to further my cause here.”

    Alyosha’s gaze pierces him. “You don’t have to stay. But I want to.”

    “I—” Arrell slips off the table as he realizes what Alyosha is proposing. Them, apart. It does not make sense to him for a moment. He and Alyosha have never been parted the way he wants to be parted before. Does Alyosha not love him anymore?

    He blinks a few times, his mouth dry, his cheeks hot. “I would miss you,” he says finally, his voice faltering. “I’m not asking you to stay on the road with me forever, Alyosha, I just need a little more _time_.” His voice breaks on the last word. “I need more time, I’m almost there. You know how close I am.”

    “You need more time that I don’t have,” he replies, detached. “I cannot do my duties on the road like this.”

    “Then you don’t have to do church work,” Arrell begs, desperate. He sinks to his knees slowly, presses his forehead to Alyosha’s knuckles. He can’t see Alyosha’s face. He’s not sure he wants to. “Alyosha, _please_ —”

    “Tutor,” Alyosha snaps, silencing him. He takes a moment to breathe, and Arrell, chastened, remains silent. Softer, Alyosha continues, “It’s important to me.”

    _More important than me?_ Arrell thinks, but does not say. He wants to, so badly. He wants to lay guilt before his love, but not to hurt him, never that. All he wants, all he has ever wanted from Alyosha was the promise of his presence. And now he does not get even that. He _knows_ , damn it all, he knows Alyosha’s love for the church. But if it’ll keep Alyosha by his side, safe, protected, oh. What he wouldn’t do.

    Alyosha firmly removes his hands from Arrell’s and tilts his head up with a hand beneath his chin. Arrell looks down and to the right at the scuffed wooden floor, unwilling to meet Alyosha’s eyes with these tear tracks on his face. “Tutor, you have told me again and again: we are each of us a world unto ourselves. Sacrosanct. _Complete._ ”

    He has said that, hasn’t he.

    “If you do not accept my decision to remain here, then what were your teachings for? You would be the highest of hypocrites.” Arrell finally lets himself look up at Alyosha, and tears sparkle in his eyes too as he cups Arrell’s cheek in the palm of his hand. Arrell leans into the soft touch. “I love you, Tutor Arrell. It is because of this that I need you to let me go, just as I have always encouraged your wanderings.”

    He makes too much sense in his argument. He’s thought it over for so long. How long has Alyosha considered this? How long has he _wanted_ this? Arrell wonders what warning signs he missed. He wonders if this would have happened had he not been so busy buried in his work. The work is important. The work is so important. But so is Alyosha.

    Gritting his teeth, Arrell chokes out, “Fine.”

    It’s enough that Alyosha hasn’t stopped loving him. They have a few more days together. _They have time_. So Arrell takes a deep breath and swallows hard. “Will you write to me?” he asks, his fingers reaching for the laces of Alyosha’s trousers.

    It has the effect he intends: Alyosha’s breath hitches. He bites his lip. _This is what you will be missing._ Arrell knows that Alyosha has already made his decision, his case airtight, but who would blame him for trying one last futile time?

    “I will. Will you reply?” Alyosha’s grip tightens on his chin, forcing him up a little bit. Arrell gasps.

    “If I’m not busy,” he says, meeting Alyosha’s eyes. There’s that awful feeling swirling in his stomach, the one that usually follows the way he lashes out. His fingers deftly unlace Alyosha’s trousers, and he pulls Alyosha’s dick free of the cloth.

    Alyosha cocks an eyebrow, letting go of Arrell’s chin, and Arrell mirrors his expression before hooking his hands beneath Alyosha’s knees, pulling them apart around his kneeling form so he can lean forward and drag his tongue along the length of Alyosha’s cock.

    He goes slow, eyes trained on Alyosha’s face as he licks up, Alyosha’s whole frame stiff and trembling until Arrell’s mouth is on the tip of his cock, and then he lets out a breath he’d been holding the whole time. The end of it comes out in a soft moan as Arrell tongues circles around the head of his dick insistently.

    In his fervor, Alyosha grabs Arrell’s hair, and the pull of his fingers feels good, the kind of pleasurable pain that he knows will distract Arrell. His mouth goes slack and he moans around Alyosha, closing his eyes.

    “Tutor,” Alyosha breathes, and Arrell answers him with a soft hum as he gathers his wits again, however few are left. He takes more of Alyosha’s dick into his mouth, sucking as he goes, using his tongue to supplement when he feels like Alyosha isn’t being loud enough.

    Alyosha could never truly keep quiet. Even now, when he is clearly trying to restrain himself, soft moans escape, some more drawn out than others. He gasps for air, his breaths becoming shorter and shorter as Arrell slowly moves up and down, and then Arrell moves his tongue in that particular way Alyosha likes.

    His fingers tighten in Arrell’s hair as he comes down his throat, and Arrell swallows. He tells himself it’s so they won’t have to clean up a mess.

    Alyosha, panting, braces his arms against the armrests of the chair he’s in. Arrell stands, finally, his knees aching, and starts to move away when Alyosha’s head shoots up, and he grabs the hem of Arrell’s shirt.

    “Where,” he pants, “Where are you going?”

    “To take care of something,” Arrell says coldly, and firmly removes Alyosha’s hand from his shirt. He slams the door behind him when he leaves.

  
  


Alyosha wakes up before him the next morning. Though Arrell is back in their bed and they don’t have much time left, it doesn’t stop Alyosha from getting up and writing him a note.

  
    _You haven’t changed my mind, Tutor. I will return soon. Don’t leave without saying goodbye.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter at [caeliste](https://twitter.com/caeliste)


End file.
